


Anything You Want

by DaydreamingofDragons



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fisting, Bottom Bull, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamingofDragons/pseuds/DaydreamingofDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is always prepared to give the Bull's ideas the consideration they deserve</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposting from the KM. Written for the prompt: "Dorian fists Bull. Bull is incredibly enthusiastic about the entire experience."

The first time Bull raises the subject, it is a casual remark. Murmured into Dorian's hair as they lie together in their villa, exhausted from a long-anticipated reunion; the urgency between them soothed away, salved by the prospect of ten whole days alone together.

"Y'know, Sera got me thinking." Not a terribly random comment; they had spoken to Adaar and Sera only a few hours earlier. What should have been a short message exchanged turned into a rambling hour-long conversation after Sera stole Adaar's crystal and demanded to talk to Bull. A hour of stories and laughter, an aching nostalgia in Dorian's chest and Bull's hand stroking over his hip in comfort.

Now, cradled on Bull's chest and almost dozing, Dorian hums a vague questioning note, far less alarmed than he should be about any idea Sera has inspired. "She'd be delighted, I'm sure. About?"

"Was wondering how you feel about fisting."

Ah, there is the alarm. "Bull!" Dorian pushes himself up, stares down at Bull in disbelief. "I'm well aware that my ass is magnificent. Miraculous, one might even say. But there are limits!"

Bull laughs but before Dorian can take offence he holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, kadan. Message received." A large hand runs up his back, gently urges him to lie back down. "Letting the cold air in," Bull grouses, arranging the blankets over them both again. After a long pause, "I was thinking about the other way around, actually." Dorian's mouth forms an _oh_ , silent. _That_ thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Forget about it, kadan. Just an idea."

**

Dorian does not forget about it. Not that it is something he dwells on - far more important things to focus on with Bull right here, after all. It might not have been framed as request but Dorian has learned to pay attention to Bull and the things he expresses an interest in. Often, that is still as close as he will come to saying he wants a thing. So Dorian thinks about it. Between lazy meals and energetic sex and slow hours lying pressed together, the idea takes root.

**

Dorian brings it up again on the morning of their penultimate day, keenly aware of how their time is running short. After a breakfast of bread, honey and fruit, eaten sitting outside in the morning sun.

“I’ve been thinking, you know. About your idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Bull responds. “Which one was that?”

Drat the man, he is going to make Dorian say it. He does so like hearing Dorian spout filth. Well, Dorian can oblige him in that, even if it does make his cheeks flame. “The one involving my hand in your ass. Surely you recall. Or do you make such offers often?”

“Only to you, kadan,” says Bull, with the conviction that always takes Dorian’s breath away. Drat the man for being so sweet, on top of everything else. Bull grins, sudden and filthy. “So, you’ve been thinking about it, huh? _Damn_ , that’s hot.”

Dorian chokes on a laugh. “Oh you _ridiculous_ \- of _course_ you think that.”

“What? It is!” Bull protests, still grinning. Dorian throws an apricot at him. A half-hearted gesture, only feigning annoyance; Bull is sure to catch it.

He does, of course. Cuts it in half and hands one back to Dorian, who leans across the table to take it with his mouth. He eats it slowly and licks the juice from his lips for the pleasure of how Bull’s gaze turns hot and intense.

“So, you’ve been thinking, huh? Gonna tell me what?” Bull prompts after a time.

Dorian hesitates. He will not lie and claim any great personal enthusiasm for the idea. The deception would hurt Bull. What he can claim is willingness and a growing curiosity. “I can’t say I quite understand the appeal,” he admits at last. “From your position, I mean.”

Bull stretches his legs, nudging against Dorian’s under the table. “Hey, I like trying things. I got curious, wondered if you might be too. Plus, it’s meant to feel pretty damn great.”

Dorian blinks. “You’ve never done this before then?”

“Nah,” Bull shrugs. “Never really had the opportunity.” He grins. “‘You wanna shove your hand up my ass’ isn’t exactly something you just come out with.”

“Oh,” Dorian replies in dumb surprise. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” Interest and nerves flutter in his stomach.

“Hey,” Bull murmurs and reaches across the table to take Dorian’s hand, which he hadn’t even realised was tapping out a restless rhythm. “It was just an idea, okay, kadan. No obligations. If you’re not into it, we won’t do it.”

Dorian calms the instant Bull’s hand touches his. He breathes deeply and thinks. About this ridiculous man he loves so, who doesn’t ask him for the things he can’t give him. About how very beautiful he looks when something makes him feel ‘pretty damn great’. _That_  Dorian is extremely into.

“Well, Dorian replies, meeting Bull’s gaze and grinning, “I suppose we’ll never know unless we try, will we? I find myself curious, amatus.”

Bull’s answering grin is blinding.

**

Dorian crosses the room to the fireplace, naked from the bath. It’s a cool evening outside but, with the curtains pulled and a large fire, their bedroom is snug. A flick of his fingers ignites the candles on the mantelpiece. In the new light - and without Bull trying to distract him - he examines his fingernails critically. Cut short and neat, they are distinctly out of style in Tevinter at present. There the current fashion was for long nails, filed into dramatic points. Utterly impractical, of course, but then, Dorian supposes, practicality has never been the Magisterium’s primary concern. He himself had again gloried in being pointedly out of fashion. And capable of picking things up for himself - among more interesting activities.

“Dorian, they’re fine.” Dorian does not jump. Possibly he startles. A little. Bull laughs, of course. Then muffles it with a kiss into Dorian’s damp hair, before Dorian has a chance to berate him for it. “Such pretty little hands.”

Dorian turns in time to catch the ludicrously fond expression with which Bull smiles down at him. Not that Bull would put much effort into hiding it. Nor can he talk; Adaar has often told him he looks besotted. Here, alone together, he finds that doesn’t bother him very much.

Bul’s hands sweep slowly down his back and come to a rest on his waist. Then Dorian is reaching up and Bull is leaning down and they meet somewhere in the middle, a warm press of lips and tongues. Gentle, until Dorian nips at Bull’s lip, earning a growl he feels down to his bones and the dig of Bull’s fingers into his skin. Hard enough to add new bruises to those already patterning his body, if he is lucky.

A hand on Bull’s chest gets him moving backwards without necessitating breaking the kiss. It’s not until Bull’s legs meet the bedframe that he pulls back. Dorian attempts to chase after him and pouts when Bull holds him still.

“Somewhere you want me?” Bull asks, smirking.

"The bed would be an excellent start." Dorian shoves at Bull's chest, for the show, the pressure nowhere near enough to unbalance him but he moves anyway, easing himself down onto the bed and up it. Dorian takes a long moment to admire the view: Bull laid out naked on their bed. Starting to get hard already, just from the anticipation. As is Dorian, in fact. He doesn't bother to resist his urge to be dramatic, not with Bull watching him so avidly. He raises his left hand to his mouth and licks it, then takes his cock in hand and strokes himself lightly. Moans softly, pure theatre.

A small piece of performance, but highly effective. "Get yourself over here," Bull demands, his single eye dark and intense. Dorian laughs but obligingly crawls onto the bed after him.

Bull goes to turn over and Dorian stops him with a hand on his knee. "No. Stay on your back."

Bull pauses. "Easier, if I'm on my knees."

"Until one of them gives out, that is," Dorian scoffs. "We can reposition later, but this will take a long time and I have no intention of explaining to your boys how you crippled yourself with sex, thank you very much. They would probably turn it into some absurd marching song. And I know you wouldn't care in the slightest, that is entirely besides the point," he finishes, overriding Bull's attempt to interrupt. "Besides," he adds more quietly, "I think I would rather like to see your face during this."

Bull smiles at him, the soft besotted expression that Dorian misses almost more than anything else when they're apart. "Okay, kadan. We'll do it your way." He lies back on the bed, settles pillows behind his head and under his hips. Spreads his legs wide.

Dorian settles between Bull's legs. Runs his hands up Bull's thighs and leans down to press a kiss to his belly. Looking up, he meets Bull's gaze and seeks one final assurance. "You'll tell me if you wish to stop." His voice raises on the final word, making it into something between question and demand.

"Katoh," Bull affirms, running a hand through Dorian's hair. "I'll let you know." Tone fond but not condescending; Dorian would never doubt his sincerity in this.

"Very well then," Dorian reaches for the vial of oil on the nightstand, slicks his forefinger thoroughly and reaches down to rub it against Bull's hole. He draws teasing little circles, edging nearer. "Let's get started then."

Bull is as tight as ever when Dorian finally eases his finger into him, to Bull's satisfied sigh. It seems an impossible task they have set themselves, when Bull's ass clenches so tight around even one of Dorian's fingers. But Dorian has never been an unambitious man, nor unprepared to work for it. He works Bull's hole patiently, leaning forward to trail kisses across his stomach, as far as he can reach. Waits for Bull to breathe and relax into it. _Oh yes_ , having Bull on his back was definitely the right decision. Beautiful, the way his mouth falls open with his soft sighs, the way he never looks away from Dorian.

Dorian removes his finger and Bull huffs with frustration. He turns his kiss into a bite to the Bull's stomach, then kisses it anyway. "Patience," he purrs, looking up through his lashes. Bull huffs again and tugs at Dorian's hair, but lets him up to reach for the oil again.

More oil and another finger has Bull groaning. He's loud and unashamed, and Dorian thinks it's probably a good thing there is no-one else for miles. Not that he would care, precisely. But it would be a shame to disturb them.

Once, years ago, Dorian had thought to accuse Bull of theatrics. Some plot either to thoroughly humiliate Dorian or else to prove a point about not being ashamed of who one fucked. He was wrong, he knows now. Bull is just like that. In sex, there is not a duplicitous bone in his body.

Dorian encourages Bull's noises, thrusts his fingers more insistently and gives Bull the pressure of a third against his rim. He meets Bull's eye, grins mischievously and shifts suddenly to lick right from Bull's balls to his cockhead. Bull moans at that, head thrown back and eye closing. His hand tightens convulsively in Dorian's hair, drawing a moan from him in turn.

"Tease," Bull accuses, after a few heavy swallows.

"Nonsense, amatus," Dorian replies, as brightly as he can with Bull's hand tugging at his hair. But if his voice isn't quite steady, Bull is in no state to call him out on it. "Necessary preparation, I assure you." The way he grins before diving back down and licking at Bull's cock again - pulling back and licking his lips, then returning - perhaps puts the lie to his words.

Still, it is cruel to tease too much, so Dorian has mercy and gives Bull another finger. Bull groans and grabs at Dorian's hand where he is braced against the bed, presses their fingers together and squeezes. Dorian gasps and returns the grip, another point of connection and they cannot possibly have too many.

The angle is wrong for Dorian to properly get his mouth around Bull's cock and a tiny disappointed noise escapes him as he mouths at it, licking and kissing. He makes a louder and unhappier noise when Bull releases his hair. Then moans with pleasure when Bull takes his own cock and guides it to Dorian's lips.

"Yeah," Bull hisses, long and drawn out. "Like that." Dorian moans around him, does it again and more deliberately to provoke Bull to groan like that again. He sucks on the head, tastes precome on his tongue and shivers. Bull talks all the while, a stream of beautiful filth interrupted with more beautiful groans. Bull's voice, his noises, his cock in Dorian's mouth, his hips pressing up off the bed, his ass around Dorian's fingers and his hand in Dorian's - Dorian's concentration feels shattered; torn into a thousand pieces that somehow all center on Bull.

He pulls back, gasps for breath, for focus. Clenches his hand around Bull's to stop himself reaching for his own cock, damp and aching. It would be good, to touch himself. Better to have Bull clinging to him like this though. Dorian manages to raise his head and look at him, head thrown back and panting. Gorgeous.

" _Fucking_ tease," Bull manages eventually with a weak glare at Dorian. Dorian licks his lips and laughs, a touch unsteadily.

"A taste of your own medicine, perhaps," he suggests. He hopes Bull enjoys the treatment half as much as he does, in his place. Half as much as Dorian enjoys dishing it out. His cock aches and his pulse races and he _wants_. But they have a plan so, when he regretfully disentangles his hand from Bull's, he only teases himself with the lightest brush against his cock on his way to more oil and - finally - four fingers.

Four has Bull swearing in three different languages, as Dorian thrusts and completely neglects Bull's prostate, bends and licks precome from Bull's cock and stomach. Dorian falls into a rhythm, everything that isn't Bull retreating further from his notice, dismissed as unimportant. Time passes unnoticed, the insistent countdown of how long left until he must leave Bull again _finally_ deigning to shut up. Dorian would be relieved if there was anything in his mind but _now_.

The noise of fabric tearing brings him back to himself. Bull's hands are clenched in the sheets, tight enough to rip them. Dorian pauses. They have discussed this but... "Do you want to come, first?"

"No," Bull grits out. "Want - ahhh - want all of you."

"Alright," Dorian soothes. He thrusts his fingers again. They move so easily it seems unreal. He slides them out and takes a deep breath, steadies himself. Bull moans his displeasure and Dorian has to smile at the indignant noise. "Alright, why don't we get started on that then?"

He helps Bull to turn over - more support than physical assistance - and settle comfortable on his knees and elbows. He can’t resist taking the time to trail a line of kisses down Bull’s spine, a final one pressed lovingly against his ass. Bull chuckles. “Come on. No point letting all that work go to waste.”

“No, indeed,” Dorian agrees and reaches for the oil. The vial is noticeable lighter than it was when they started. He may owe Bull an apology for laughing at the size of it, originally. He’s generous with it now, coating his right hand and a good part of his forearm. Even squeezed into the narrowest wedge he can manage, his hand looks to big for this to be possible. Bull wiggles his ass in what is probably intended to be an inviting gesture. Dorian loves him enough that somehow it isn’t ludicrous, although he still laughs. Well, Bull is still enthusiastic and they’ll never know unless they try...

Amazing, really, how easy it is at first, with Bull so open and relaxed. Dorian is sure he has never been this loose around his cock. Bull groans, rocks his hips as if he can’t bear to stay still and mutters a constant stream of filthy encouragement. “Dorian - fuck. Your hands,” Bull pants, groaning and pressing backwards as Dorian eases his fingers deeper. He bites his lip, digs the nails of his free hand into his palm, to stop himself grabbing his own cock. Hearing Bull so wrecked - well, his voice has always been a weakness of Dorian’s. “- good. Oh shit. So damn good. _Damn_.”

Bull breaks off with a sharp grunt, tensing and Dorian freezes instantly. “Bull?” he prompts. “Amatus?” He unclenches his fist and strokes Bull’s sweaty back, heaving with his breaths. “Do you want to stop?” Dorian keeps his voice carefully calm, free of judgement and the fear gnawing at him.

“ _No_ ,” Bull growls. He breathes deep and deliberate. “S’good. More. Slow.”

Dorian takes a deep breath of his own. Relaxes. He doesn’t ask if Bull is sure. If he weren’t, he would have said. “Alright. Slow.” He eases his hand back, slops oil over it and presses back in with gentle, steady pressure. “I trust we will have no more of that ‘tiny hands’ nonsense in the future,” he quips, pleased with himself when Bull laughs and relaxes further.

Dorian goes tortuously slowly. He would swear time does the same thing, each heartbeat drawing out and lasting what feels like forever. He’s shaking almost as much as Bull is, his hand trembling where he rubs circles into Bull’s hip.

_Finally_ , his hand moves more easily inside Bull, the resistance easing. He stills and stares down at Bull’s ass stretched around his wrist. Unbelievable, if not for the fact that he can feel it - all pressure and heat.

"Oh fuck. Fuck," Bull manages. Over and over he repeats it, seemingly beyond any other words. Dorian is not much better.

"Yes. Yes, quite," he stammers, awed and overcome. His erection had faded somewhat, arousal eclipsed by concern. It has recovered now, aching and leaking and impossible to ignore. He sounds as wrecked as Bull and _oh, he is_. Wrecked. Completely ruined for anyone else. What else could possibly compare?

"Dorian. Move," Bull asks. Begs, rather. Dorian has no will left to deny him. He flexes his fingers inside Bull, enjoys the moan that gets him, then curls them carefully down to his palm. Like this, he finds he has little range of motion; Bull's hole is snug around his wrist and seems to resist Dorian's efforts to slide his hand out again (a fact he finds far hotter than he will ever admit to anyone else). Even less precision. He has never felt so clumsy with his fingers in any man's ass.

None of that apparently matters to Bull. Every minute shift of Dorian's hand has him gasping, groaning, crying out. Pushing back against him as if he wants to take still _more_. Practicalities aside, Dorian fiercely regrets putting Bull on his hands and knees. Oh, what a picture his face must be.

All of Bull's reactions go straight to Dorian's cock, make it jump and leak and _ache_. He grits his teeth. He has neither Bull's liking nor his talent for self-denial. Determination can only take him so far.

"Bull," he begins, has to stop to smother a moan against Bull's back. "Touch yourself. Bull, please." He doesn't care that he is begging too. That's unimportant when Bull is quick to obey, shifting his weight onto one arm and reaching back with his other hand for Dorian to spill oil gracelessly over it.

Bull doesn’t tease himself, goes straight for his cock, clenching around Dorian’s arm and groaning, head hanging down. As he jerks himself, Dorian finally gives in and touches his own cock. Moans helplessly at the sensation and struggles to find a rhythm he can keep to with Bull moving under him, rocking forward into his own hand and back onto Dorian’s. Noisy and getting louder as he loses himself completely but Dorian is no quieter.

In the end, coordination counts for nothing. Bull comes suddenly, gasping and swearing harshly, his hole spasming tightly enough that Dorian cries out with it, wildly imagining what that tightness might feel like from the other side. Then Bull relaxes, sagging down to lie amongst their scattered pillows. Dorian remains between Bull's splayed legs, imagines the tightness of Bull's ass around his cock as he fucks his own hand, deliberately noisy because oh, Bull deserves to know how he has enjoyed this. He comes with a bitten off cry of Bull's name, all over Bull's ass and his own arm, as Bull is still shivering through his own aftershocks, moaning something long and low that might contain Dorian's name.

Dorian slumps down against him, slightly harder than he intended but he feels distinctly shaky at the moment. He ignores the awkward angle of his arm and his own come smearing over his chest, concentrates on being still and breathing.

He has no idea how much time passes - not the slightest notion how long it has been since they began - but eventually, their breathing evens out and falls into sync. The room is dim when Dorian summons the will to open his eyes again. Several of the candles having burned out at some point. He couldn’t say when. Still neither of them moves, content to rest together in silence and each other's presence.

"Damn," Bull groans, after a time. "I was gonna suggest you fuck me, after." There's the hint of a laugh in his words.

Dorian chuckles in return. "I'm afraid you underestimate the picture you make, amatus. Quite irresistible." It's certainly an image he will hold tightly to. Enough to make him wish he were an artist, for the power to immortalise it. But, perhaps, after all he prefers it where it is, locked tight and safe in his own memory, for himself alone. "Besides," he adds, smirking against Bull's back, "as loose as you are I'm not convinced you would notice." He lowers his voice, almost growling his last words. "I would rather you feel it, when I fuck you."

Bull growls himself, in response, a sound that makes Dorian's cock twitch and visions of fulfilling Bull's wish flash through his mind. Then Bull shifts and hisses. Dorian levers himself off him and rubs his hip gently. "Just a moment, amatus."

Bull winces as Dorian wriggles and eases his hand free, running a soothing hand up and down Bull's back and murmuring nonsense words, even as he tenses and winces whenever Bull does. Finally, Bull's body releases him and Bull relaxes into the mattress with a sigh. Conjuring a wisp of light to his fingers, Dorian inspects his hand and Bull's hole with careful eyes. A mess of come, oil and sweat but no blood and the tension in his shoulders loosens. Grimacing, he wipes his hands clean on the sheets. They're a lost cause anyway, given how Bull had torn at them. He dismisses the light with a flick of his fingers and waves a hand in the direction of the fireplace, to stoke the fire higher against the chill night.

"Hey," Bull rumbles, "get back down here." Dorian is happy to obey, spreading himself out over Bull's back again. Bull hums out a low, contented noise when Dorian's weight settles onto him. "Yeah, like that."

Distantly, Dorian knows he should move. Fetch a cloth and clean them both up properly. Settle them into a more comfortable position because, for all he feels he could stay lying here forever, he knows they would both regret it in the morning if they did. But time is still strange and everything that isn't Bull is far away and unimportant. Bull wants him here and he wants to be here, so here he will stay, for as long as he can.

Dorian is idly pressing kisses to Bull's back - just laying one next to a new scar, close to his spine - when Bull speaks. "Think we wrecked the sheets again."

"'We'?" Dorian asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Hell, yeah. You definitely get half the credit. Driving me crazy," Bull doesn't sound the slightest bit upset or guilty. He exhales, a long sigh of satisfaction. "Damn, Dorian. That was good. You're so good."

Dorian shivers. Drops his forehead down between Bull's shoulders and kisses him again. Enjoys the taste of sweat and Bull's skin. "It was," he admits in a murmur. "Very good. Next time though, I want to be able to see your face when my hand goes in."

"Next time, huh?"

Dorian curses himself mentally for the presumption, although Bull only sounds amused. Before he can say anything Bull swings an arm around and pats him awkwardly on the ass. "Sounds good to me, kadan," he says, ignoring Dorian huffing into his back. "Gonna be in Val Royeaux for a bit next month. What do you think about me looking for a nice big mirror? Put one at the end of our bed, let you watch me, see what you do to me." Dorian can hear his filthy grin. "Make you watch what _I_ do to _you_."

"Oh, _yes_ ," Dorian breathes weakly, imagining it. "You do have the best ideas, amatus."

"Yeah, I know," Bull replies smugly. "I'll see what designs they've got and send you the details, how's that?"

"Just perfect." Dorian reaches for Bull's hand lying on the bed and tangles their fingers together. "You could perhaps purchase us some new sheets as well, while you're there."

"Anything you want, kadan."

**Author's Note:**

> So, fun, that was the first porn I've ever written. Let me know what you thought? And major thank yous to the KM commenters, without whom this would never have been posted anywhere else.


End file.
